


Banishment of the Snakes

by lynnaround



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gratuitous use of dashes, M/M, also sorry saint patrick i guess, as someone who took a whole class on arthur the mismash of dates and aesthetics pains me a lil, various knights of the round table - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-29 05:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnaround/pseuds/lynnaround
Summary: "Like I said, I didn't really mean to be here, though I guess if everything's so kumbaya, I gotta do something about it. Nah. I've only been here a week. Had to make an impromptu swim across the Irish Sea. One of yours,” Crowley added grumpily.“Oh, I'm very sorry,” Aziraphale said, feeling a little sheepish both that Crowley had apparently been inconvenienced in some way and that he was apologizing for someone on his own side. Still, it would hardly be polite to say otherwise. “So you've been in Ireland, then? I've been meaning to get over there, but I just haven't yet. I keep hearing good things about what they do with seaweed."*It was a shame, because he'd rather liked Ireland.





	Banishment of the Snakes

It was an unusually sunny day for Wessex, for once, and underneath the bright blue skies, King Arthur's knights were feasting and jousting and carousing and generally doing what knights do best, second to impaling other knights on swords or spears or lances. Sir Aziraphale was no exception, other than the jousting part – he did make handy work with a weapon, if pressed, but he'd much rather partake in the spoils of the banquet table. King Arthur and King Leodegraunce and all the other kings that rather populated Britain in those days were all there, mixing and mingling, and their knights were quick to follow suit.

Which was how Aziraphale caught sight of a rather moody-looking knight in a tabard of black with bright red hair, keeping his head down and looking rather surly about having to. Aziraphale quickly moved though the crowd towards where the knight was sitting, a single cup of wine before him.

“Crowley! I didn't think I'd see you here,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, and Crowley rolled his eyes before fixing them on the angel. (The English hadn't gotten around to discovering glasses yet, let alone smoked lenses. It was fine when he was all suited up, so to speak; the visor of most helmets provided enough cover that the humans wouldn't look twice, but it was rather passé to keep one's helmet on and visor down at a friendly feast. Didn't mean Crowley hadn't thought about it anyways.) “Enjoying the banquet?”

“Yeah, well, I didn't think I'd _be_ here,” Crowley said, taking a swig out of his goblet, not deigning to answer Aziraphale's question before looking the angel up and down. “This whole thing's a little too peace and goodwill for my taste. Guess I gotta play catch up, 'cause you've been so busy, apparently.”

Aziraphale beamed. (He had, in fact, gotten a very lovely note from Above praising his work with King Arthur. Things were going along splendidly, he rather thought.) “It is a very nice banquet,” he agreed, “and Arthur's a good lad. It's been rather lovely.” Crowley snorted, and Aziraphale peered over at him. “Where _have_ you been? I haven't seen you, in – oh, my goodness. Was it all the way in – ?”

“Rome, I guess,” Crowley said. “Yeah, I mean, you know, this and that. Had to keep myself busy. Like I said, I didn't really _mean_ to be _here,_ though I guess if everything's so kumbaya, I gotta do something about it. Nah. I've only been here a week. Had to make an impromptu swim across the Irish Sea. One of yours,” he added grumpily.

“Oh, I'm very sorry,” Aziraphale said, feeling a little sheepish both that Crowley had apparently been inconvenienced in some way and that he was apologizing for someone on his own side. Still, it would hardly be polite to say otherwise. “So you've been in Ireland, then? I've been meaning to get over there, but I just haven't yet. I keep hearing good things about what they do with seaweed.”

“Well, I'm sure you'll find it just 'heavenly' now,” Crowley said, his voice rising high and mocking on the allusion to Above and retaining the mocking tone for his next comment. “Try the white pudding, you'd like that.” He took a sip of his drink, and Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows.

“Wait, Crowley – what do you mean 'had to make a swim?' Did someone from – ” and the angel cast his eyes upwards for a moment before looking back at the demon, and Crowley took _another_ swig of his wine, “ – catch you there?”

“No, nah, not _that_ dramatic,” Crowley said, grimacing. “Your man over there – Pádraig? – he's been over there, y'know, converting the people, annoying the Druids, all that stuff your lot likes. So I figured I'd go and mess with him a bit.” (Crowley liked the Druids – they were generally no-nonsense, told incredible stories, and were highly entertaining at parties. It had really been quite inconvenient when this guy – wasn't even really Irish – had come around and started doing all the boring visions-and-conversions stuff. Real damper on the social scene.)

“Oh yes, I've heard of him,” said Aziraphale, who had only heard mention of him in passing and had meant to check in on him and had never done so. “I do hope you didn't do anything _too_ terrible to him.” Crowley spluttered at that, setting down his cup so suddenly it was a miracle the contents didn't spill all over his black tabard.

“To _him!_ – no! I was just –” Crowley gesticulated wildly in the vague direction of Ireland. “Y'know, bothering a bit while he was doing some big fast or something, didn't even have my fangs out, just tickling him in hopes he'd leave off, and _he_ – !"__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Aziraphale refilled Crowley's goblet. In his indignation, the demon didn't notice.

“Next thing I know! He's up like a shot and banishing all snakes from the _entire island!_ And it _worked!_ Flung me halfway down the coast and I had to _swim_ to Wales. Never mind that Ireland didn't have snakes in the first place, – other than me – it sure won't now, just 'cause some human with a line to the Big Lady used his 'holy powers' to wreak 'divine retribution' over a _tickle.”_ Crowley glowered into his wine.

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, who didn't really know what else to say. “The saintly types do tend to get a little bit tetchy sometimes, I've noticed.” The demon snorted.

“Yeah. 'Tetchy.' Sure.” Aziraphale waited for Crowley to say something else, but the demon seemed to be gazing westward with a frown.

“The whole island?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley nodded.

“Yep,” he said. “Whole thing. Hadn't even made it up to Ulster yet.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, feeling like he should do something to help, find a silver lining of sorts – he had found he didn't like it when Crowley got all gloomy like that – “if you like, I could introduce you to Sir Tristram. He's spent quite a lot of time in Ireland, I'm sure he could tell you about what you've missed.” Crowley turned his gaze back to him, then, and Aziraphale felt strangely self-conscious. He regarded the angel for a moment, unspeaking, and Aziraphale valiantly fought the urge to squirm. It would be most undignified, he primly reprimanded himself.

“Nah,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale would swear that the corner of the demon's mouth had turned up in a sort of hidden smile. “He the one with the harp? I'd say he needs to spend more time practicing and less time talking. Or mooning. He's got that sorta look in his eyes that you just _know_ he'd open his mouth and start talking about his lady love or whatever for _days.”_

_“Crowley_ – don't be rude, his playing is perfectly _fine_ – ” and the demon laughed, then. And if the angel smiled too? For the moment, he didn't mind whether or not he should.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment, if you like! 😊


End file.
